


Missing Him

by Chips2



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Daydreaming, Dingle Wellie, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Prison Sentence, Robron sexytime, Self-Harm, Wedding, wedding anniversary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 10:35:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20740820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chips2/pseuds/Chips2
Summary: A week after Roberts imprisonment for GBH with intent, Aaron is missing him. Everyone has noticed and close friends try to get him through. Aaron's POV.





	1. Paddy, Chas and Marlon

**Author's Note:**

> I've been watching Emmerdale forever but never thought to post fanfic on Robron. This is an homage to the character of Robert Sugden as he is about to leave the show... P.S. how do you write a Yorkshire accent? Asking for a friend...

This is a nightmare. Everything with Robert and Lee and the assault.

It is a bad dream that I’m going to wake up from in a minute. It isn’t real. If it was, I would want everything to go back to normal. Now.

I want to watch him help Liv with her homework. Not just because he’s good at it but because he’s good with her except when he’s not and I have to pull them apart before they tear strips out of each other. They are my top two in the world.

I want to see him cook the meals he makes for us. It’s his daily moment of peace and he lets me share it with him.

And he gets me to taste his experiments so now he knows that he can stuff the poncy shite he tries to feed me and concentrate on satisfying me with one pot and meat-and-two veg dishes any day.

I want to roll my eyes when he offers to make hot chocolates in the middle of our home movie nights as if he’s doing us all a favour and not to satisfy his ginormous sweet tooth.

I want to see his drive; that passion that’s his core, that makes him go for more and for better, sometimes more aggressively than I’d like.

I want to go back in time and not act mardy with him over the little things that irritate me about him because I love and miss them as much as I love and miss him.

I want to crease up over the face he puts on when he’s changing Seb’s nappy. It shifts between worry, concentration, love and relief and it’s been there ever since his boy pissed on him in a sneak attack messing one of his designer shirts. It’s priceless that look.

I want him to knock sense into me when I am about to spiral or when I’m being a bell-end. He uses every tactic from charm and anger to gentleness and bribery and sweet-talking. All of it works… eventually.

While we’re on the subject of sweet-talking, I want to call him an idiot when we are alone and he’s trying to get his leg over, and he pulls out his cheesy one-liners.

I want him to look at me like he does; like there is no one else but me even when we aren't the only ones in the room.

I want him to shove me into our bedroom. Pent up. Raging with passion. Kick the door shut. Block the world around us out. Let’s have at it.

I need him to be with me. Rough. Gentle. Kinky. Vulnerable. Honest. I want to have him all over me because he is seriously fit. He gets me going just as much as he did when we first met. Still. Almost five years on. It’s who he is. He radiates sexy. He knows it and he uses it. He uses it on me.

I want to sleep and wake up with him. I want to listen to him snore and feel him kick me in his sleep. It does my head in but then only things that matter to me do my head in.

I want to come home to him.

I want us to go on one of them ‘surprise’ dates that he springs on me. They’re not a real surprise though, are they? Not anymore. I have got to know him so well that now I can sniff out when he’s being secretive and up to something. Like when he asked me too casually to do a haul for him down to London because apparently, he couldn’t do it because he was double booked at a meeting in Keighley. I knew to pack a suit and I was right because halfway down the M1 he texted me to tell me not to go back up North after drop-off. I found him at a fancy hotel in the capital instead, lying on a hotel bed with beers and take out on a side table, looking like the cat that got the cream. Hotel lock-in. The food and drink were not a priority… not when we finally had time just for ourselves without any chance of getting interrupted by Seb’s crying or Liv’s whining or the village descending on us.

I want his spontaneity to rub off on me like it did when he suggested a picnic on the cricket ground, and I got him to have a frolic in the pavilion nearby.

Or when I got us fish, chips and beers to celebrate nothing at our layby. Or when I bought last minute tickets to France because there was that international car show and Robert has been going on about how he would love to go to it at some point in the future. I am sure that if he had to pick between me and his car in a life/death situation he would have a moment of hesitation. He even admitted to me once, "I reckon half of why I love you is that you know your way around a car." 

Charmer.

I want to see where our tradition of wearing increasingly ridiculous Christmas jumpers gets to as the years go on.

He’s a mess when he gets some lager in him. Emotional. Handsy… very handsy. Adorable really. Mostly. Because at the same time his lame jokes get worse and if there’s music he’s dancing to it and trying to get me moving with him. Sometimes he's dancing without booze.

When that happens, the level of cringe is stratospheric and yet I love him more than ever.

I want Robert with me. I can’t see me without him. It’s the small stuff. Grabbing a pint with him down at the Woolie. Us. Our mates. Our families. If he’s not with me my pint doesn’t taste as good and the banter around me doesn’t tickle me as much and there’s a moment- at least once- when I think ‘Robert would have…’.

If he’s with me it’s like having an anchor. An ally. My partner in (crime) life.

My husband.

“What’s up, love? Are you daydreaming?” Mum looks at me while sipping her half pint of lager through a straw. She sees where I am looking, the bar, and adds, “Robert.”

I hate how her eyes look sorry for me.

“No.” I scoff but I answered too quickly to come off genuine. “Just tired.”

Paddy is sat next to her. We are perched at one of the Woolie’s tables and the two of them are opposite me making me feel like I am under their microscope.

Paddy has his frown on and is staring at me like I am going to top myself in front of them or something.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He squints.

I grunt to mean, ‘yes’.

It’s an innocent lie. I look around the pub but it only takes a second before my eyes are back on him at the bar. He is turned away from me, waiting for his turn to order a round for us. Pint of bitter for Paddy, another half pint with a fresh straw for mum and two pints of lager for me and him. Unless he’s in full Robert-mode. Then it’s a posh white wine for him and he knows he can stick to his side of the bed if he’s looking to get lucky tonight … unless he tries it on extra hard.

I hear him order.

It’s a lager for him tonight. I smile.

“That’s better.” Mum says. “It’s ages since I’ve seen that smile.”

Which makes me frown because she’s reminded me that I’m living a nightmare.

“Oh Aaron.” Mum whines as she clocks the shift in my mood. “It’ll be okay, baby. I know it will.”

She reaches across and squishes my cheeks in her cold hands. She is trying to reassure me, but her eyes look as unconvinced as I feel. I pull away before I lose it in front of her.

“Yeah. Thanks for that.” I scowl. “Those words from your mouth have sorted _everything_ out.”

“Oi. Your mum is only trying to h-h-help.” Paddy says, “Stop being a little shit.”

“Hardly little.” Marlon pipes up from behind the bar and chortles until my death glare stops him. “I mean that you’re not a kid anymore. Not that you’re, you know. Fat. You look good. Great even. Nice tan. You know what, I think I smell burning. In the kitchen. Which is through there. Scones, I think. Better check. ‘Scuse me.”

I face Robert’s back again as he leans against the bar and Marlon makes a swift exit. As if by magic he knows I’m looking at him and he turns around. He gives me a cheeky wink. Like an over the top TV advert wink but mixed in with being proper irresistible. He mouths something at me. I don’t get it first time, so he mouths it again,

“You’re fit.”

I smile then roll my eyes at him. He’s being daft.

“I’d slow your roll.” Paddy points at my pint glass. “Or you’ll feel it tomorrow.”

I blink and look down. I must have drunk my last pint quicker than I thought. I look up. There is a middle-aged man standing at the bar where I was staring at Rob a split second ago.

My heart sinks.

“Yeah.” I mutter. “Actually. I’ve got work tomorrow.” I pretend to look at my watch then stand up. “Best get home.”

“Don’t go yet.” Mum grabs my wrist. She looks panicked.

“Mum.”

“It’s only been a week, love. I know it feels desperate now but it’ll get better.”

“I know.” I shake my head as I feel tears spring in my eyes.

“I mean it, son.”

“Stop.” I am not going to break down. I promised him I wouldn’t.

I break free of her grasp.

“Stay a little longer.” Paddy pleads.

“Can’t. Need to sleep.”

“Your mum and I are worried about you. You’re avoiding everyone.”

“I’m here. Aren’t I? I’ve had a few pints with yous.”

“Only because I dragged you out.” Paddy says. “And now you’re leaving again.”

He’s everything a father could be with the hard, painful truths, the never-ending loyalty, the unending love. Doesn’t make him any less irritating.

I roll my eyes. “That’s how going out works, Paddy. You have to go home at some point.”

Mum and him. Too much.

I look at the bar area again where I imagined my husband. Where for a moment I buried the nightmare of the past few days.

I pick up my house keys and feel a bit unsteady on my feet from the five pints. More than I would have on a regular night. “See you around, yeah?”

“T-text us when you get home.”

I scowl at Paddy as I leave.

I hear him whisper to mum, “Leave him. He needs space. He’ll come around.”

The key clangs as it unlocks the front door to our apartment. Our home. My footsteps hammer on our floor as I walk in. My breathing disturbs the quiet of our place.

I stop in the living room.

“Liv?” I whisper even though I know that she is already asleep. “Liv.”

It’s a school night but I need to make sure. There is not a peep from upstairs. I don’t move. I don’t know how long I stand there for, in the middle of where our home life is lived; between video game remotes and stuffed toys and homework books and account files and couches that we cuddle and huddle on. Life together.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

I look up. I’m shocked. Not going to lie.

Robert is here. Two steps in front of me. My heart starts beating. Again.

“Surprise!” He whispers with a huge grin on his face.

I don’t know how to react. I feel like sobbing like an idiot and smiling like my face might split in two. Both at the same time. I close the gap between us and pull him into my arms. I try to absorb him into me. Feel him against me. Hear his breath against my neck. See the fine thread of his shirt point blank. He is solid and warm against me.

He is here.

“Hey.” He mutters as he pulls back. “Missed me?”

“Fuck off.” I can’t let him go. My arms are like Velcro around him.

“Okay.”

He pretends to take a step back, but I tighten my vice-like grip on him.

“Don’t you dare.” I hiss.

“Thought so.” He mutters warmly against my mouth. He lets our lips touch. Gentle. He lets them linger. Re-acquainted. He breathes into it and I kiss him back. Everything that has been coiled up in me, for what feels like forever, unravels.

God, I love him.

“You’re here.” I push him back. “I don’t get it. What happened? How did you-”

He stops me talking with another kiss. Suddenly we are on the couch. Sitting, reclining staring at each other. “You’re talking too much…” He kisses me again. “… for someone who grunts to communicate…”

I grunt to mean ‘as if’.

He strokes my arm and pressed his head against mine. He stares at me unblinkingly.

“I missed you.”

Fuck’s sake. I feel a tear roll down my cheek. I’ve always been overemotional when it comes to people that matter to me. The hard lad with the softest centre, me.

“Don’t be soft.” I say quietly.

He presses a gentle kiss on my lips.

“I’m not the soft one.” He runs a finger across my cheek. “And anyway, nothing wrong with being soft… in the right places.” His runs his hand across my waist and down to my bum. I feel a squeeze. “Did I mention that I missed you?”

It’s like a flick of a switch. He lights a fire between us. I feel goose-bumps as he crushes his lips to mine. He pushes into me and I lay down on the couch with him over me.

I am hungry for him, starved of his affection and touch. Thirsty for his attention. His hands reach under my tee-shirt, connecting with my bare skin. His firm touch turns me on. Kissing him isn’t enough. I hook my fingers into the waistband of his trousers.

Here on the couch?

Or against the kitchen counter?

Or on the rug?

We have to be quick and quiet though if we stay down here because knowing our luck Liv will wake up and want to come down for a glass of water or something. I push my hand in and cup him. He groans and rubs against me.

Maybe it’s better to go to our-

“Bedroom.” He whispers hotly in my ear. “Now.”

I don’t need to be told twice. I run up the stairs behind him, caught up in him.

In us.


	2. Liv

I passed out from fatigue after tossing and turning at about 4 am. A combination of almost no sleep for seven days and five beers.

When my alarm goes off at 7 am it feels like my head only just hit the pillow minutes before. I hit the snooze twice before finally forcing my eyes open and facing the truth.

I turn on my pillow to face the other half of our bed. The empty side. I picture him wide eyed and staring back at me. Crazy bed head. Bright light blue eyes drowsy with sleep. His lips slowly curving into a smile as he reaches for me and tries to draw me into a cuddle.

“Gerroff!” I mutter but he pulls me to him like a human sized stuffed toy anyway.

He nestles his head into my neck. “Not unless you stop looking this good in the morning.”

I roll my eyes. Five more minutes. Five minutes of being in each other’s arms. He can go ahead and gently stroke my arm and feel warm and solid by my side while I count the different shades of blond on his head. Until one of us comes to our senses and makes a move to start our day.

I sluggishly get out of the covers. My brain is foggy. My legs feel like lead. My heart’s heavy. Must be the beers Paddy and mum bought me. Just the beers. I look at our bed and recall the faint echo of a memory.

But of course the bed is empty. 

In the _en suite_ shower the water is hot against my skin. Too hot. I should turn the temperature down but instead I turn it up. My skin goes sore, sensitive and pink from the blistering heat but I don’t allow myself to step away. I pick up Robert’s exfoliating glove. It’s one of his things that I don’t really get. Exfoliating. I tease- teased- him about it. How _metro_. How this glove has probably touched him more than I have.

I put it on and rub my other hand across it. It’s got a rough surface. It removes skin, Rob said. Dead skin.

I press the exfoliating glove against me, dig it into my skin with more force than I have ever seen him do on himself _(what if it removes skin?)_ and drag it across my chest. There’s pain there but not enough. I promised Robert that I wouldn’t do this, hurt myself, but I didn’t know how hard I would find it without him. It’s too hard. So I do it again. Firmly scrape my burning skin with the glove. Again. And again. And again. Scalded scratched out skin. The feeling it brings is familiar. Relief. I exhale as I continue to do it. Repeatedly on the same spot. The pain is numbing.

Makes things better.

Helps me cope.

“Aaron!”

Liv jolts me out of my bubble. Her voice is coming from my bedroom just outside the _en suite_ bathroom door. I look down and immediately turn the scorching water off. I’ve created a wide streak of tiny superficial oozing cuts across my chest. They throb. A dull constant agony. I look at the door. It’s locked.

“Yeah! What?”

“Thought you’d died in there.” She shouts. “What are you doing? Or, do I even want to know?”

I can picture her grimace.

“We have two bathrooms for a reason. Use the other one.” I shout as I step out of the shower cubicle and wrap a bath towel round my waist. I rethink and replace the towel with a bathrobe. I double tie the knot around my waist and make sure my chest is completely covered.

“I’ve already showered.” She says. “That’s not the point.”

I open the bathroom door and face my sister. She’s already dressed and ready for school. Hair brushed and hanging free instead of in a ponytail ever since she started at college. Bloody mascara. Bloody coloured lip gloss. Designed to make her look older than her actual years. Is this Gabby’s influence? Or is Liv just growing up and being a typical teenage girl?

Either way it's a nightmare.

“How many times have I told you not to come into my room unless I say you can?” I tell her off.

“Yeah, well. I figured that it was safe now that there was no chance I would catch you and Rob at it.” She looks closely at me, frowning.

“What?” I look down at my chest immediately, but my self-inflicted injury is still hidden. I hold the lapels of the robe closed with one hand just in case.

“Have you seen the bags under your eyes? You look like death warmed up.”

I shove past her and head for my wardrobe. “And?”

“Did you even sleep last night?”

I scowl at her. “When did you become my mother?”

“Funny you should say that because I made you breakfast.”

I look at her suspiciously.

“But don’t get too excited. I had to make do with what we had knocking about.”

My sister is way too comfortable in my room. She walks to Rob’s wardrobe and opens it. 

I haven’t opened it since he left. I feel a lump in my throat as she skims her hands across his shirts and jumpers which are hanging in a neat pressed row inside. I can't take looking at them like that. Lifeless. Ownerless. I gently shut the wardrobe door and lean against it facing Liv.

I fold my arms. “I’ll get something at the caf’ on my way to work.”

“Don't bother. I’ve made you coffee and your favourite cereal with an orange on the side. It’s probably soggy now, the cereal, because you decided to take a year instead of your usual five minutes in the shower.”

I force a smile because she’s gone and done a sweet gesture and that’s rare from her. “Okay. Thanks. I’ll get dressed and come down.”

That is her cue to leave so that I can get my chest bandaged up and have a word with myself about how what I did was stupid.

Liv stays put.

“I was looking in the fridge and it’s nearly empty.” She says with hesitation. “No one’s gone food shopping.”

Liv and I don’t do the grocery shopping in our house. Robert took on that responsibility and we got used to it just like we did having him as our personal chef.

I plaster a smile on. “I know. Sorry. I forgot. I’ll get groceries after work. Tonight, if you want a slap up meal, Zak’s having people round for tea.”

“What about you?”

“Nah. I think I might be coming down with something. I've been feeling rough. Best not spread whatever bug it is around.”

She shakes her head. “Then I’ll pass too.”

“Why?”

“I don’t feel up for hanging out with a bunch of Dingles tonight. In fact I was thinking, maybe we could do something else.”

“Like?”

She hesitates. “When I brought up the fridge, I wasn’t trying to have a go at you about not having food in the house.” She sighs. “It got me thinking about Robert and how maybe we could go and visit him tonight.”

I feel my throat swell. “Yeah. Yeah. No. Can’t.”

“I know you’re not coming down with anything, Aaron. That’s my trick and I smell bullshit.”

“It’s not a trick.”

“You can’t keep avoiding him.”

“I said I’m not going!” I bark at her harder than I intended but it works.

She shuts it… for about two seconds. “Right now he's worried sick because you're not calling him or taking his calls. But soon he’s going to start thinking you don’t care about him.”

I can’t hear it. Just thinking about taking a trip to the prison and seeing him there, so close to me and yet so far, cuts me up. If this is how it is going to be for years, many years- me and him divided by a wall- then I don’t want to face reality.

I can’t.

“It’s daft but do you know what I keep imagining?” Liv gives me a gentle smile. “That he cries himself to sleep. But it’s not because he misses us or anything. It’s because he’s missing his car, the expensive shower gel that he kicks off about if I use it and that posh wine opener that he brings out when we’ve got guests.”

I can’t help a smile because Rob is stupidly chuffed about that wine opener.

“Actually, he’s probably managed to smuggle the that opener in somehow because of his scheming or because he’s managed to bribe someone. It's probably a weapon in there and he's got those tough guys eating out of the palm of his hands.”

I shake my head. “If he dares.”

“Jealous?”

“No. Just don’t need him getting into more trouble.”

“You’ll have to show your face and remind him why it’s not worth it then, won’t you?”

My sister has the same face on that she uses when she thinks she’s bested me in an argument.

I sigh. “Yeah. Look. I better get changed or I’m going to be late for work. And you are definitely going to be late for school at this rate.”

She looks at her phone. “Crap! Okay I’m going but this conversation is not over. You’re starting to piss me off.”

She stomps out of my room and down the stairs. I hear the front door slam moments later.

I don’t need this right now. An angry younger sister on a mission.

She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t get why I am acting the way I am now. That I am sick and tired of people who I love either hurting or leaving me or both. After what happened with Jackson, I genuinely thought I was through with love and relationships. I rebounded with Ed and then flung myself into bed with anyone who showed me just enough attention to numb my pain without getting attached afterward.

Liv doesn’t know that when I met Rob I thought he was more of the same; a safe bet, no strings attached, one night stand. He was an engaged man with delusions of straightness who was never going to come out. We were not written in the stars. I did not plan to fall for him and when I did, I was sure that he would never fall for me. And when he did neither of us saw it going anywhere. Until it did. It became real. A thing of substance. We couldn’t have imagined how deep our attraction for each other would get, how far what we had would go or how large what we felt for each other would become.

I hadn’t appreciated how much power we had given each other to destroy the other. That is the flip side of love that no one likes to talk about. It sets you up for pain when something comes in its way. Like when it is lost or gets taken away.

Like when your loved one gets locked up on a ten-year prison sentence.


	3. Cain

When I get downstairs Liv’s attempt at breakfast is waiting for me on the kitchen table. The cereal has turned to a soggy paste, so I suck on the two sides of the orange she’s sliced in half, down the coffee and scrape the contents of the cereal bowl into a bin. 

I notice a note that she had tucked under it.

_I’m sorry I got worked up. I miss him too. _

_See you later _

_Love you,_

_L_

“Morning, sleepy head.” 

I glance up from the note. I thought I was alone, but I’m not. I feel my mood lift immediately at the sight of Robert standing at the cooker, gently shaking a frying pan over the hob.

I look at what he is wearing. “You took my bathrobe.”

He looks down at it and smiles. There is a lot more leg on show when he wears it and the sleeves come up short. Cute really.

“I think it looks better on me.” He smirks.

I shrug. “No chance.”

"Hung over?" He asks sympathetically. “You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.”

“Thanks.” I mumble, barely able to open my eyes.

“Do you feel like being sick?”

I shake my head and instantly regret it because of the pain it causes. “Head’s throbbing.”

I shuffle up to him like a dead man walking. He faces me and wraps an arm around me allowing me to collapse onto him for a second. I inhale his favourite fragrance; it’s a combination of citrus and sandalwood. Reminds me of being outdoors.

“It's your fault.” I tell him.

I feel his lips on my forehead.

“I don’t remember telling you to neck the Dingle wellie. Or the champagne. The beers. Or the sambuca.”

"No, but you could have stopped me." I throw back at him.

He kisses my sore head again then gently shoves me off him. “Sit down. I made us a fry up.”

“‘Kay.” I fall into a chair at the kitchen table while he puts food in plates. “But to be fair I’ve never heard of a half year wedding anniversary. What was I meant to do?” I hold my head in my hands trying to stop my brain from falling out.

“I thought you deserved something special to mark putting up with me for 6 months.”

“I’ve put up with you for nearly five years.” I mumble. I feel the room rock when I look up at him. “Where’s my diamond and my medal?”

Maybe the recipe to our success is that he is the only person on earth that has figured out how to put up with GrumpyAaron™.

He chuckles. “I thought the mind-blowing sex and that watch there would be enough.”

The watch on my wrist must have cost him more than I earn in two months but…

“What sex when?” I murmur.

“The sex we were supposed to have before you got yourself into a right state last night.”

“Oh. You should have said.” 

“Didn't think it needed announcing.” He winks at me as he puts a full English in front of me and sits. He looks far too good for someone who was also plied with alcohol at a Dingle knees up. He throws me a cheeky smile as he picks up his fork and knife. “You should have done what I did. Chucked half the Dingle welly in a bin.”

“How’d you get away with that?”

“Cain. He said drink half and get everyone cheering. Fake drinking the other half and give it me to get rid.”

“Cain said that to you?”

“Like I said, I had plans for us at the end of the night.” Rob raises a pointed eyebrow, “Couldn’t be too drunk, could I? Didn’t count on you getting so wasted you didn’t know which way was up and passing out in bed. Cain tried to prise the sambuca shots out of your hands at the pub for me… and failed.”

It’s funny hearing him talk about Cain like this. Like they are pals. I remember the first few times Robert interacted with him and experienced a Dingle pile in. His eyes would go as wide as saucers. He looked terrified at our wildness. The noise coming off us. The pats that landed like punches. The brutal banter. The aggressive love. Ours is a family of loyalty and emotion, mistakes and redemption. Only a Dingle could accept someone like him as one of our own.

They finally officially did on our wedding day. Not at the actual ceremony but afterwards. They got him to drink from the booze-filled Dingle welly which was first passed through the hands of all living members of the family.

That freshly worn mud-encrusted sweaty rubber was a warm welcome from my family. Raw. Real. No frills. Saying to Rob that he was one hundred percent one of us- not just mine- anymore. They had his back. He downed the whole lot and had the sorest head (from the booze) and the dodgiest stomach (from whatever culture was growing in that boot) the day after.

Lesson learned six months later.

“Ey, you going to eat up or what?” He gives me a look.

THE look that pulls me in to him. That tempts me even with my heavy fuzzy head. That gets my juices flowing.

“What’s the rush?” I ask as if I don’t know. I pick up a sausage and slowly bring it to my lips. Make a show of taking a bite out of it.

He bites his lower lip then smiles. “Mind-blowing sex.”

I stare at his empty seat.

The echo of memories from that morning knock about in my mind but the reality is that there is no fry up. The cooker is clean and empty. Robert’s favourite male fragrance hasn’t rubbed off onto my skin from sleeping next to him last night and we aren’t about to have Mind-blowing Sex™.

I put my empty coffee mug and cereal bowl into the dishwasher. I drink a glass of water. Stare at the empty glass for a second. In a fit of angry, desperate rage I fling it against the wall and watch it shatter with a loud clang. 

I find myself breathing hard but unable to catch my breath. It feels like there is a huge pressure against my lungs stopping them from expanding properly. My throat is closing, and my heart is pounding. I start to pick up the broken pieces of glass to throw them into the bin but stop when I come across one with a perfectly sharp and piercing edge. I touch the smooth cut aspect and lift the hem of my t-shirt and hoodie up.

I need release.

I need to feel numb.

I push the sharp tip against my skin, over the sore I have already caused, and I apply pressure.

No.

No.

No.

I promised I wouldn’t do this. Spiral with him gone.

NO.

I drop the piece into the bin and quickly clean up the rest of the mess. I grab Liv’s message, pick up my house keys, stuff my wallet into my jogging bottoms, put on my high vis jacket and set off for the scrap yard.

My legs carry me in another direction. I find myself knocking on a house door and knocking harder when no one comes to answer.

Cain flings it open. “You trying to break the door down, kid?”

“No.”

“You alright?”

He has the same face on that pretty much the whole world seems to have on when they’ve seen me these past few days.

Worry.

“Yeah.” I feel my heart beating hard through the lie. My palms get sweaty. “Actually no.”

“You want to come in?”

I force myself to slow my breathing. It’s a quick trick my counsellor taught me right at the beginning. Take a practiced breath in, feel my lungs expand, and breathe out slowly letting go of my pressure. My pain. I shake my head. It’s not working.

“I’m worried I’m going to hurt myself.” I’m shaking from the shame of my admission.

It’s a white lie. Cain doesn’t need to panic over what I have already done to myself this morning. He knows how bad I can get when it comes to self-harm. I want to stop myself before I land in hospital with sepsis or severe dehydration and hypothermia.

I have Liv to think about now. And Seb. They can’t fend for themselves. I can’t be selfish.

His eyes widen as I feel mine fill with tears. I swallow hard. “And I don’t want to do that again.”

“Have you thought about it a lot recently?” Cain asks.

A young child’s squeal of joy comes through from his living room. Cain looks behind him then closes the door quickly, shutting us out of his home. “Sorry. Debs is here with her litter. They’re wrecking the place.” He rolls his eyes.

“Didn’t realise.” I rub my eyes dry, feeling like a nuisance. “I’ll go.”

“That’s not what I meant, lad. Don’t be daft. You talked to your counsellor about it?”

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

“Chas or Paddy?”

I look at him as if he’s gone mad.

He chuckles. “Fair enough.”

“I haven’t been to see Robert since he got locked up.” I confess. “We haven’t spoken.”

My uncle doesn't look surprised. “Why not?”

“I don’t know.”

But I do. I am burying my head in the sand, trying to avoid the reality of the situation we are in. I don’t want to see Robert locked up, dressed in prison uniform, looking and sounding as hopeless as I felt when I was jailed. As hopeless as I feel now.

It’s the fact that we are looking at ten years apart.

TEN.

It’s impossible for me to get my head round. If he serves it all Seb will be a teenager when he gets out.

Liv will be a young woman. Maybe working. Maybe in Uni.

Victoria’s unborn son won’t have had him as an uncle for all nine years of his life.

His aunt may not be alive. Diane’s a tough woman but her kind of cancer, at the stage they found it, comes back.

And me…. I’ll be thirty-seven. We’ll have had ten years of what exactly? Me calling him every day then every other day then weekly, if that. Until one day we’ll realise that we have less and less that bonds us, less in common and even less to share. He’ll resent me as I try to find a way to live without him. I’ll feel guilt at witnessing Seb’s first steps, words and first day at school without him or Liv’s graduation and first job. I’ll hide moments of joy from him to spare him the feeling of missing out. I’ll shield him from moments of pain to stop him from feeling helpless. It will leave us emotionless, unconnected, distant when all I want, desperately, is to share it all with him.

I can’t stop the tears from coming. “I want him here, Cain.”

“Yeah well, that isn’t going to happen, is it?” My uncle says firmly. His words should sting but a soft touch is not Cain’s way and tough love is what I came here for. “Your fella ain’t getting out for a while so you need to figure out how you are going to deal with it.”

“Yeah. I know.”

He nods. “The way I see it, you can end it or stick by ‘im.” He says it matter of fact, like he is asking me to choose between custard or cream with my sticky toffee pudding. “Might be easier to ditch him, to be fair.”

That stops my tears in their track. I should have expected him to say that, but I had hoped that he would have supported my relationship with Robert. Especially with how well I thought they’ve been getting on. Obviously, it was just my wishful thinking that my uncle liked my husband.

His eyes narrow. “Let’s face it. He’s bad news and that’s coming from me. He nearly killed you and Paddy. That’s a biggie. Strike number one.”

Robert was never going to kill us in that hotel chalet. I know that with absolute certainty… but at the time I didn’t, and it was terrifying.

The man I had loved was pointing a loaded gun at me, desperate and cornered. The gun was the only solution he saw to my threat of upsetting his ‘perfect’ life by telling his wife about our affair.

As fucked up as it might seem, I get how he got himself to that point. I understand what it feels like to be cornered and to react with pure evil. It feels like another life now but at the time I wasn’t ready to admit I was gay. Paddy figured it out though and I was terrified and ashamed. I beat him to a pulp to preserve the lie I was living. I was willing to do anything, including killing myself and hurting others to stop the truth from coming out.

I haven’t forgotten or excused what Rob did to me, but I know that, like me, he isn’t the same man he was then.

“He messed around with you behind his missus’s back and he got her sister pregnant while you were in prison. Not exactly husband material, is he? Strike two. Also, he can’t make up his mind about fancying blokes or dames. Greedy, if you ask me. I wouldn’t trust him.”

If there is one thing I know it’s that Cain will never receive one of them LGBT+ advocate or ally awards.

“You’re not the one that has to. I do.” And I do. Trust him.

“All I’m saying is dad always says you can take tea or coffee with your brekkie but not both.”

“Yeah, but you can have tea one day and coffee the next so what’s Zak’s point?” I mutter.

He gives me a look. “The point is so far we’ve established that your husband tried to kill you and can’t keep his dick in his pants. For most people that would be enough to call it quits but let’s see what else he’s got going against him. There’s the fact that he’s cocky. Conniving. Lying. Cheating. Cowardly. Thieving. He’s got a face that’s begging to be punched. Let’s not forget that when he got shot the list of people who wanted to kill him was longer that the list of people who didn’t. He’s not exactly Mr Popular.” He pauses. “I think that’s about it. In my opinion you’re definitely better rid.”

He looks at me. “And you’re probably better rid of me and half the family n’all.” It takes me a second to catch up. To know what he is doing. That reverse psychology bullshit. “Because we’re thieving, foul-mouthed, cheating scum most of us. But do you know what we also are?”

“Annoying?” I offer.

“Fuck off.” Cain mutters. “We’re loyal. We’re honest.”

“You rob people.”

“Fair and square.”

I roll my eyes.

“We’re honest to ourselves. To our family, Even those who marry in if they follow the Dingle code. We take care of each other. We never give up. That Robert, he loves you, Aaron, so we'll do our part. You do still love him, yeah?”

“That’s a daft question.”

Cain nods, “Takes a git to love one.”

“Oi.”

“You’ve got to fight, lad. Be a Dingle. He’ll be out in five with good behaviour."

Five years. Fuck. I feel them stretch out in front of me. FIVE. Feels like forever.

"Don't do that face. DS Wise gave me the name of a lawyer. She reckons there’s a small chance we could get Robert out sooner. She said-”

“You spoke to a lawyer?”

“Yes and I hired a PI."

"When were you going to tell me?"

"When you stopped having that face on like you hadn’t taken a shit in seven days. But since it ain't shifting, I'm telling you now. As you know Robert has- had- a clean record. Lee on the other hand- one charge for being drunk and disorderly and, get this; two charges of GBH. Once when he was in school so the files were sealed and once when he was in university. Attacked a French girl but she dropped the charges before it got to court and went back to France. He doesn’t look like a choir boy no more, does he? Lawyer reckons there’s a good chance that it’s enough to cast doubt on what happened between Robert and Lee.”

I can't believe that Cain would do this for me. It is more than I would have expected any member of my family to do for me never mind my husband. "I can't believe you did this. That's-"

"Don't get emotional, lad." He smiles. "I'll be asking for a favour back at some point."

For a second I get a flash of hope. This new information is brilliant but then I remember. "But Rob pleaded guilty."

"And?"

"If he's said he did it, how's he going to turn that around?"

"You should know. It's called a false confession."

"What?"

"Remember when you falsely confessed to starting the fire at the garage that nearly killed me to cover for your Adam?"

I do. How could I forget? I decided to go on the run for two years in France instead of facing a prison sentence because of that. I was only able to return to Emmerdale when Adam finally admitted to the crime.

"But it's not the same." I sigh. "Rob did it, didn't he. No one else going to come forward to confess to smacking Lee across the head." 

"Want to say that any louder?" Cain looks at me as though I am an idiot then looks around as though someone might be eavesdropping in on our conversation. "Look. I'm not saying he's coming out of this scot free. The GBH charge will stick no matter what happens. He'll have to serve some time in the nick but it won't be long. The question is about _intent _and the lawyer says that because the crime was not witnessed, and that Lee fella was at Robert's house after losing his job and having his reputation smeared and because he has previous showing that he starts fights, there is a case to show that Robert was acting in self defence. That Lee came to Robert with the intention of attacking him because he felt that Robert had ruined his life." Cain looks smug. "Basically Robert would have ask to reverse his guilty plea."

"You say it like it's easy."

"It's not. He'd have to prove why he wants it reversed. It's a long shot but what I'm saying is that we fight. We try everything. For your fella." I try not to choke up. It's weird seeing my uncle be so protective of Rob. Weird in a good way - "Because lets face it, he's a little too fussy and floral to survive jail, if you know what I mean. He's got a face that's begging to be punched."

Then he says something like that to remind me that he is a politically incorrect thug.

"Does Robert know what you've found out?"

"No. I thought it might be something you might want to tell him. And I'm not making promises."

"Yeah I know." I nod. For the first time since seeing Robert walk away from me at the gates of the prison, I feel hope. It's a tiny glimmer but it's enough. Cain is right. What the fuck am I doing moping around? How is that any good for Robert or for Liv and Seb? How is that helpful to our marriage? We have a beautiful marriage and I want to continue having one, with him. 

I pull my uncle into a hug and take a breath. “Thank you. For everything.”

I don't let go because he's set me off and he's giving me a pat on the back that says it all. 'It's alright, kid."

I believe it. Even if this plan doesn't work it'll be alright because I won't stop fighting for my husband. I won't give up. I'll keep trying for our family until he comes back to us no matter how long it takes.

“It'll be alright..” Cain whispers. I swear his voice cracked.

"I know." I whisper as he pulls away.

He's a bit misty eyed. He clears his throat and looks back at his closed door and then at me. “I better get back in there before the kids destroy the house.”

“Yeah. ‘Course.”

“But I’ll see you later, yeah? Zak’s for tea?”

“About that.” I clear my throat. “Liv and me, we won't be there."

"How come?"

"We, uh, I want to get my family back together again tonight. You know?”

He nods, getting what I mean.

“No problem.” He opens the door and the noise level from inside hits our ears. Screaming, laughing kids.

“I’ll let the rest of the family know. Say hi to Rob.”

"I will."

**Author's Note:**

> Might do more Emmerdale fics even if no one reads! I enjoyed writing this.


End file.
